Twists and Turns
by musique91
Summary: Katie loves Oliver more than mere words could describe. Oliver loves Katie because she makes him feel so many emotions at once. So why does it take them thirteen years to finally admit it?
1. Love Song

_Author Notes: Hello Everybody! This is a little story I've been working on with a friend of mine Nikita. Please read and review! _

**CHAPTER ONE**

It all started with a card game. I was a naïve little second year and I somehow ended up playing Rummy with a couple of third year girls.

With everything to lose.

I don't know what was running through my head when I accepted the challenge, but I knew I had to prove them wrong. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were convinced that Wood and I were made for each other, ever since I sat next to him after being sorted into Gryffindor and he winked at me. I always told them, "It wasn't a wink. He just had a speck of dust in his eye that was bothering him and he happened to look in my direction at the time." But they remained unconvinced.

I once thought that Oliver Wood was rather daft. He was an athlete. And a rather thick headed one, might I add. He was obsessed with Quidditch. On one occasion, Percy Weasley even informed me that he always wears boxers with quaffles or snitches imprinted on the cloth. You would think that one would get tired of Quidditch at some point. I assumed that after years of playing the game, the initial excitement would eventually wear off. Don't get me wrong. Quidditch was a fun game to watch and occasionally play; even I knew that. And during the holidays, I would play a little Quidditch myself. But the way Wood lived for this mind-numbing game slightly disturbed me. From what I could tell, Oliver Wood was a prick. A prick and a batty Quidditch captain as well.

They challenged me to a card game. If I won, they would stop pestering me about Oliver. I thought this bargain was too good to be true…that is…until I heard the other half of it. If I lost, I would have to try out for the Quidditch team. I was appalled! "Absolutely not," I spat. "I don't even play Quidditch."

"Oh don't give me that," Angelina snapped. "Alicia and I both know that you play with your cousins during the summer. And we also happen to know that you're a damn good player too! Good enough to be the lead chaser for the Gryffindor team."

"And besides," Alicia added, "This would be the ideal opportunity for you to get closer to Oliver." Both girls erupted into a fit of giggles. As they laughed, my anger came to a boil.

"Why in the hell would I want to get closer to him?" I shouted at the two infuriating girls in front of me, "The boy can't even say a word without relating it to the damn game in some way or another!"

"Oh, shut it Bell. We know you like Oliver. You know you like Oliver. The only one who doesn't know you like Oliver is, well, Oliver. If you want, you can win this game and attempt to prove us wrong," Angelina said, raising her eyes expectantly.

I sighed heavily. The only way to get out of this unruly mess that I had found myself in was to accept the challenge. So, that's exactly what I did.

The game was excruciatingly slow and exhausting. But despite my efforts, I found myself losing very badly.

"It's funny," Alicia commented, smirking slightly. "Everyone says I'm the worst card player. So, if you think about it, it's very ironic how I ended up winning this time."

I got up from my seat and stomped back upstairs to go to bed. There was no hiding that I was angry with myself for taking that stupid bet. What was I thinking?

I decided that if I was going to try out for the Quidditch team, I should at least try and do it with a smile on my face, and do my best to conceal the volcanic-type anger inside me. With each stomp up the stairwell to my dorm, I came up with reasons why trying out for the Quidditch team might be good for me. Stomp – maybe it would be fun. Stomp – I would get the chance to spend more time outdoors, instead of being cooped up inside. Stomp – I'd get some exercise (if you can even call flying haphazardly on a broom exercise). Stomp – There were some decent guys on the team, excluding Oliver.

As soon as Oliver's name popped into my head, I was unable to stop my rage from rising once more. Stomp – I hate Oliver. Stomp – why is he so obsessed with this bloody game? Stomp – Angelina and Alicia can go to hell.

And with that, I trudged into my dorm, slammed the door shut and went to bed.


	2. Comfortably Numb

**CHAPTER TWO**

The Quidditch pitch was muddy and wet, due to the heavy rain the previous night. A very enthusiastic Oliver Wood joined the crowd of Quidditch team hopefuls and commanded our attention immediately.

"Okay, listen up! It looks like I'm captain this year. And it also looks like you guys are here to try out. Before we start, I need to go over some basic guidelines. Quidditch practice is everyday from 5 PM until whenever I say we're done. Occasionally, you will wake up in the wee hours of the morning and we will practice without complaints. I don't care if it's raining, snowing, or scorching. You must attend every practice. I cannot stress enough how essential practice is on this team. To be successful on this team you must be committed and ready to practice any time and anywhere! Are we clear? Finally, I am your captain. Whatever I say goes. If you have any complaints, take it up with McGonagall. If any of you have problems with this, you can go ahead and leave right now."

A group of fourth year girls walked out of the Quidditch pitch haughtily. I overheard one of the girls whisper something to her friend: "I really only came here 'cause he's cute."

I nearly burst out laughing right in the middle of the thick silence on the field. Oliver? Cute? I didn't think it was possible for those two words to be used in the same sentence! I rolled my eyes and my gaze fell on him. His blue eyes were boring a whole into my brown ones. My heart began to pound in my ears like drums, but I didn't look away no matter how much I wanted to. I could swear I saw a hint of sensitivity in this demanding Quidditch captain's eyes.

And as I stood there gazing at Oliver, I realized that I was wrong. About his looks, I mean. It was as if someone had just handed me a pair of all-knowing glasses that allowed you to see things in a different perspective. And what I saw was very different indeed.

Oliver's Quidditch captain uniform hugged his body in all the right places, emphasizing every curve; his shoulders, broad chest and strong arms made him look like the image of perfection. He had gentle features on his face, but his eyes stood out the most; deep pools of baby blue. His shaggy dark brown hair looked soft and gentle.

And then, just like that, within the span of a second, the all-knowing glasses disappeared. And the weight of the words that I had just thought a second ago hit home.

Oh god! What was I doing? I hated Oliver. Right? Yet, there I was, standing in front of said prick and checking him out simultaneously. I'd never felt more confused in my life than I did at that moment. After a few moments of my mind having its own little spasm inside my head, I took control. In. Out. In. Out. Deep breaths always did help calm me.

And then, I came to a conclusion. The fact is, is that Oliver Wood is cute. Very cute. My breaths came out short and raspy as my newfound realization sunk in. We looked at each other for a couple more seconds and then he turned his head away to address the crowd.

"Okay, give me five laps around the Quidditch pitch!"

I managed to fly around the pitch with ease and was rather impressed with my performance during the Chaser drills. I was able to dodge the Bludgers without difficulty and even managed to score against Wood. Still, I didn't want to get my hopes up. A part of me didn't even want to be in the team. The next day, however, I checked the notice board and found that I had been made lead chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch team! The elation I experienced that day is indescribable. Angelina and Alicia smirked at me as they walked by and I could hear Angelina mutter, "Told you so."

Our first game was against Slytherin. In the changing rooms, Fred, George, and Harry were playing Exploding Snaps, Angelina and Alicia were lost in their own little world discussing some wizard fashion show, and Oliver was seated across from me staring off into the distance. I looked at the way his eyes were glazed over and wondered what he was thinking about. He was probably just going through possible strategies for the game. I was nervous beyond belief, but I tried to hide it. Apparently, I was very bad at concealing my feelings because a second later Oliver was seated next to me, smiling feebly.

"Pre-game jitters?" he asked me. And after I gave him a short nod he continued, "Don't worry about it. Just focus on the game and forget about everything else."

Even though I willed myself not to cry in front of him, I could feel tears brimming in my eyes. "What if I disappoint everyone?"

"Katie, you are an incredible chaser. Even if we lose today, everyone will know that you gave it your best."

I looked down at the floor, pretending to be highly interested at the design on the tiles. "I don't want to disappoint you." I whispered.

He placed a finger underneath my chin and pulled my face up to his. "You will never disappoint me."

Gryffindor was victorious that day. Oliver's comforting words sent a spark of confidence through my veins. And I knew that whatever the outcome was of the match that day, I would never forget what he told me in the changing room.

For the rest of my life.

His eyes found mine during the celebration. The second our eyes met, my knees became weak, the room started spinning, everything else around me became fuzzy, and my heart was going wild in my chest. And that was the moment I realized that I, Katie Bell, was falling madly and irrevocably in love with my batty prick of a Quidditch captain.


	3. Sea of Love

**CHAPTER THREE**

I first found out about Oliver's sister during my third year. It was a cold autumn morning and I could see Oliver gazing at his hands peculiarly. He didn't respond when people greeted him cheerfully. No wave hellos. Not even a blink of an eye. No recognition whatsoever. It frustrated me. Oliver could at least have the decency to acknowledge others around him. He was thinking about Quidditch plays, no doubt.

Or at least, that's what I assumed.

I continued watching him for a while, but was interrupted by a voice behind me. "You know, he's not doing this on purpose. Avoiding people, I mean." I turned around to see Percy Weasley standing before me. I knew that Percy was Oliver's roommate. And while they were interested in completely different things, the odd pair seemed to get along well.

"What would you know about this?" I inquired.

"Well…I can tell you, but I need to make sure this information isn't going to go around Hogwarts. It's a personal matter, you see." He said this in a very matter-of-fact kind of way.

"I promise I won't say a word," I assured him.

Percy sighed heavily. "Oliver Wood isn't what you think he is. He doesn't ignore people or stare off into the distance because he is arrogant or Quidditch-obsessed. Though, often, that is the case. But this time-" his voice caught in his throat and after clearing it, he continued, "No, you see, this time…it's something else. It's because he misses someone who was very dear to him. A couple of years ago, his sister died. Severe spell damage. Since she was a small girl at the time, she couldn't make it."

I stood there like a bloody idiot. I just stood there. You can't very well blame me, can you? It was a lot to take in. With a start, I realized Percy was still standing there so I felt like I should say something. I racked my brain to formulate the words, but they just simply refused to come out of my mouth. "Oh," was all I could say. And for the rest of the day, I was overcome by guilt.

That night, on a crazy whim, I decided to talk to Oliver. We may not have exactly been close friends, but I sure as hell needed to get rid of the accumulating guilt that seemed to disperse within me, causing my stomach to feel queasy. The only way to get rid of this feeling was to talk to him. So, I set out searching for Oliver.

It didn't take very long at all, actually. I just went to the one place where I knew he felt he truly belonged.

The Quidditch pitch.

I found him flying around the pitch and he didn't even seem to notice me at first. His robe fluttered behind him against the wind as he increased in speed.

I hopped onto my broomstick and set off after him into the dark night. The wind that night was abnormally strong and hit my face with an immense force. The wind roared in my ears as I gained momentum on my broom. High off the ground, in the middle of the pitch, I stopped and hovered slightly. There were no lights on, so there was blackness all around me. Even though I was soaring quietly through the air, searching for Oliver, I couldn't help gazing at my surroundings for a moment. The stars were bright silver and shone brilliantly against the dark sky, and the stadium looked grand around me. I distantly wondered how many games had been played in this pitch for the last few centuries. Hundreds? Thousands? I continued my search and finally spotted him below me.

We met twenty feet above the ground.

"Katie…" he whispered breathlessly. His face looked flushed and tired. I couldn't help but notice that he was shivering slightly. It actually was pretty cold that night. But for some strange reason, something told me that the reason for his shivering had nothing to do with the weather. "I didn't think anyone would be out here."

I grinned up at him. "You know me. I'm always looking for an excuse for extra practice."

He smiled. "Well, okay. Now that you're here, you want to shoot against me?" I nodded and caught the quaffle that he chucked to me, while still maintaining balance on my broom. We experimented with and perfected many Quidditch maneuvers. I shot a few long goals and tried a reverse pass to no avail, while Oliver managed to successfully pull off a Double Eight Loop and even a Starfish and Stick.

"Show off," I murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. He laughed openly and only then did I realize that that was the first time I'd heard Oliver laugh in a long time.

After an hour or so of shooting practice, we decided to call it a night and pack up. He was placing the quaffle into the equipment crate, when I decided to pop the question.

Taking a deep breath, I sauntered over to wear he was busy packing up. Kneeling next to him on the ground, I looked him square in the eyes and asked, "Are you okay?"

He turned his body towards mine and had a confused expression on his face. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I sighed and let it out fast, like ripping off a band-aid. "Well...I know about your sister," then I braced myself for his reaction.

But much to my astonishment, his reaction was very…mature. He exhaled and nodded, and probably was aware that Percy had told me everything. "On this very day, three years ago, she died. I found her lying on the bed with blood trickling from her mouth. She was only four years old."

I could feel the water works coming, but before I completely broke down, I wanted to find out more. "How did it happen?"

"My dad left his wand out. She got really curious and started playing with it. She accidentally hexed herself."

"I'm sorry." We were silent for a few moments and then I asked, "What was her name?" We were sitting cross-legged from each other and even though it was dark outside, I could still see the way his face and eyes glazed over, as if lost in the memory.

"Emily Wood," he replied.

I know that it probably was hard for Oliver to open up to me, and I really wasn't helping by asking questions, but I couldn't help myself. So, I went on.

"What was she like?" I asked gently.

He wasn't looking at me anymore. His eyes were focused on the memory of his little sister. "Emily was beautiful. She had soft light brown hair and the biggest grayish-blue eyes you'd ever seen. She was always getting into mischief. Like a little female version of Fred and George. Emily was just like any other little kid in the sense that she loved having fun. She and I used to play games all the time and she loved dressing up. She'd always wear my mother's high heels and necklaces and say, 'Look at me Oliver! Look! I'm a big girl!'

"But most of all, the thing I miss most about her is her passion for magic. Emily loved watching me do simple little spells. She couldn't wait until she was old enough to do magic herself. Every day she would ask me 'Oliver, how much longer till I can learn magic?' and I would keep telling her 'Not that much longer Emily, you're getting closer every single day.

"It's actually ironic if you think about it, the very thing she loved eventually led to her undoing. She wasn't supposed to die, you know. She was only four. Emily was supposed to grow up and come to Hogwarts like everyone else. She would have become a great witch; I could feel it in my gut, even when she was just a little girl."

I nodded slowly. "I'm sorry." I knew Oliver was hurting on the inside, and I could sincerely feel his pain. His face looked so worn out and sick. My heart ached just looking at him. I desperately wished there was some way I could take away all of his pain and keep it within myself. "You are a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for, Oliver. I know you can get through this."

By now, the tears were streaming down my face. My vision became blurry, and my nose started getting runny. God, I hated crying. Oliver looked up from the ground and noticed my current condition. Silently, he turned so he was sitting next to me, put his arms around me and let my head rest against his shoulder while the tears came pouring out. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest. Absently, he started stroking my hair gently and whispered noncommittal things like "Shh…" or "It's okay," every so often.

After what felt like forever, I lifted my head up and noticed that I'd nearly drenched his sweater! We both noticed his sweater and started laughing at the same time. Our arms were still wrapped around one another and neither of us felt the need to let go, nor did either of us want to. I looked up from his moist chest and met his gaze. Looking into his eyes made me feel like I was getting lost in some other dimension.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, taking notice that my voice sounded hoarse and dry.

"For what?" he asked, incredulous.

"For your sweater," I replied. He smiled and moved his face closer to mine. To kiss me? But then, just inches away from my lips, Oliver stopped and sighed, "Katie…"

"Yes?" I couldn't breathe.

He didn't answer. Instead, he put one hand under my chin, moved my face up to his and lightly kissed my cheek.

It all ended just as quickly as it had begun. He let go of me altogether and stood up. I followed his lead.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to head to bed. I suggest you do the same." I was stunned at how nonchalant he sounded. As if nothing had just happened between us. Oliver started to walk towards the castle but then stopped and turned back to face me. His expression softened. "Katie, I am really glad we had this conversation. You really are a great friend." And with that, he disappeared into the darkness.

I stood there, in the middle of the field, feeling helpless and utterly confused.


	4. Breathless

**CHAPTER FOUR**

My fourth year was the last year I'd be seeing Oliver at Hogwarts. He was graduating this year leaving behind his friends and teammates so that he could pursue his career in professional Quidditch. A bittersweet ending. By now I had learned that Quidditch was his life and, in some sense, his escape. After his sister's death, flying and protecting those three goals became strangely therapeutic. To play on a professional Quidditch team had been his dream for ages. But after the death of Emily Wood, it became an obsession. A necessity. It hurt me to see him push himself that much.

Every so often, I would come down to the common room because I couldn't sleep, and I would always see him there; his mind fixed in complete concentration on Quidditch plays and new maneuvers. Sometimes, I would get him a cup of hot chocolate which he would sip slowly, savoring the taste of the warm liquid running down his throat. "Mmm…thanks Katie. You're the best," he would always tell me.

I'd like to think that I was always his closest friend. I put him before anything else. Even before myself. We had a fixed routine. Every day, we would sit next to each other in the Great Hall and chat about what we were learning in various classes or argue over the chances of The Tornadoes making first in the league. Then we wouldn't see each other until Quidditch practice at which time Wood entirely ignored our friendship and treated me like any other player on the team. Which I understood entirely, of course. Close relationships should be maintained off the Quidditch pitch at all times.

Not that Oliver and I were in a relationship exactly. Well, what I mean is is that, we were friends. Good friends. But it never progressed beyond the banter and occasional midnight hot chocolate breaks.

Until Angelina and Alicia interfered.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon in October. Angelina and Alicia spent the entire morning dolling me up for something they called "a blind date". I figured that I'd be going on a date, but the "blind" part confused me. Was I going to lose my eyesight? Was I going to go on a date with a blind man? I knew that sounded downright ridiculous, but hey, you can never be too sure in the wizarding world. I repeatedly told them, "I don't do pity dates! If he is blind, just send him my apologies and hook him up with someone else."

Finally, after applying a thick coat of makeup, Alicia explained the meaning behind this ruddy blind date. "A blind date is a date between two people who have never met each other before."

I took one look at the mirror and gasped at what I saw. I looked like a bloody prostitute. "If I go out like this, we will never meet each other again! Take off the makeup!"

"No! You look sexy!" Alicia insisted. She and Angelina exchanged amused looks and giggled quietly.

Angrily, I wiped off all that thick foundation and lipstick off of my face.

"Now if you don't mind, I think I'll dress myself up." I pulled off the ridiculous miniskirt they forced me to wear and slipped into jeans. Ah, the comfort of blue jeans. No matter how many fads went in and out of style, I would always have my trusty pair of blue jeans by my side. I turned to face them and asked, "Who are you setting me up with anyway?"

Angelina smirked. "His name is Stevie Ray. He's gorgeous, intelligent-a fifth year Ravenclaw- and he plays a mean electric guitar."

I nodded knowingly. I'd never met the guy, but he sounded cool. At least those two dummies had the sense to pair me up with someone decent. And besides, this would be the perfect opportunity for me to make Oliver jealous.

Or so I thought, until Angelina broke the news that to me that Oliver had a date with Patricia Stimpson in Hogsmeade that evening, as well. At first, it shocked me that any girl would want to go on a date with a man who was such a Quidditch fanatic. He would ditch her for the sport in a heartbeat. And then I wondered if Oliver has ever been on a date before. And after some contemplating inside my mind, I came to the horrifying conclusion that yes, Oliver Wood had a life, and yes; it did not revolve entirely around Quidditch and/or me.

What a disappointing and interestingly eye-opening day it was.

In a shocking turn of events (which for some reason, didn't surprise me at all considering that Alicia and Angelina were involved), Oliver and I ended up drinking butterbeer together at The Three Broomsticks that afternoon. It all started when I waited by the Entrance Hall eager to meet this Stevie Ray fellow, when all of a sudden Oliver appeared out of nowhere. "Oh hello Oliver," I said rather bitterly. "Waiting for Patricia?"

Oliver looked incredibly confused, the poor boy. "Angelina and Alicia told me that Patricia would be waiting at the Entrance Hall for me at 5 sharp. So either she is having trouble getting dressed, or there has been some interesting mishap involving a twist in time and space of which I am not aware." He eyed me suspiciously. "What are you doing here? Waiting for this Sneevie person?"

"Stevie," I corrected, glaring in his direction. "And yes, I am waiting for him. He is a guitarist you know. And a rather phenomenal one, might I add."

Oliver laughed. "Oh, really? Have you ever heard him play?"

"Of course! He has even invited me to this gig with his band in London. He's so talented!" I felt bad lying to Oliver, but I simply had to make him jealous.

Oliver smiled smugly. "That sounds very exciting," he said sarcastically, "Be sure to wish him good luck from me. Oh! And I wish the very best to both you."

"Thank you. I will be sure to do so," I replied.

Oliver's lips formed a tight smile, but his blue eyes were dancing madly. "It's a funny story, actually. I was talking to McGonagall a couple of hours ago and popped this Stevie Ray chap you talk so highly of into the conversation. She informed me that no such person exists at Hogwarts. I told her that it's too bad, because you were going on a date with him this evening. McGonagall highly suggests you visit St Mungo's."

"What rubbish!" I spat. "Stop making up lies just to baffle me, Wood. It's not working!"

Oliver closed the space between us with two quick strides. And soon enough, he was standing so close in front of me that I could feel his breath on my cheek as he asked, "You sure?" I didn't answer. My mind was on overload from trying to keep me standing upright in one piece. He continued, "Come on Katie. You're a smart girl. Can't you see that maybe I'm just pointing out the obvious?"

And then it began.

We stood at the Entrance Hall for nearly half an hour bickering away about every possible thing on the planet. Then, I suddenly realized the lack of Patricia. When I mentioned this to Oliver, he finally realized what was happening.

"Those bitches!" he muttered. I flinched; his language took me by surprise, "It looks to me like we've fallen for their trap."

"What are you talking about?" By then I was utterly confused and rather hungry as well.

"Angelina and Alicia tried to set us up. Clearly, Patricia Stimpson was never aware of the date. And evidently, this Stevie Ray person does not exist."

My eyes widened and I could feel my blood boiling as my brain processed what Oliver had just said. Angie and Alicia were going to pay for this! I wasn't going to spare them for this utterly humiliating experience they put me through! Did they not consider the awkwardness that would ensue between my Quidditch captain and me? This scarring experience would affect our team dynamics; of that I was sure. It would certainly be a while before I could face Wood without rehashing these uncomfortable moments between us. And Slytherin would win the Quidditch cup, which would certainly suck balls.

Finally, after letting our anger simmer down for a few minutes, Oliver suggested that we get a butterbeer even though our "dates" didn't show up. I agreed, partly out of sheer whim, and partly because I was in love with the man.


	5. Cry for you

_**Author's Note: Hey guys! Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I am now going to reply to some reviews. Enjoy the chapter!**_

_Avahin: Oliver isn't comforting Katie. He's just trying to get her to stop crying cause she's destroying his sweater and all. They are both just crying together about the situation. Just like how it was during our junior retreat. Right? Also, darn you! I'll get Sabine to correct my story. She's a nice person! _

_Cinny75: Thanks for pointing that out! I didn't mean to write "The last year I'd be seeing Oliver". That was a mistake on my part. Its not going to be a sad ending, don't worry! :) _

**CHAPTER FIVE**

From the Entrance Hall, Oliver and I began the long walk towards The Three Broomsticks. It was around six in the evening as we trudged on the skinny pathway towards Hogsmeade. The sun was starting its descent towards the horizon and was already halfway hidden behind the vast mountain ahead of us. There were beautiful orange and pink streaks across the faded blue sky.

The walk was gruelingly silent. Usually, Oliver and I have plenty to talk about; but that night was awkward for the both of us on so many levels. But I secretly hoped that this experience would change things. Perhaps he would see me differently. You know, other than the way he sees me right now. Which is as a permanently sweaty lead chaser on his Quidditch team, who also happens to be a girl.

We were halfway to the local pub when Oliver suddenly said, "You know, after we drink our butterbeers at The Three Broomsticks, maybe we should head over to the Quidditch pi--"

"Do you every think of anything other than Quidditch?" I said, abruptly cutting him off.

His expression told me that I'd caught him off guard. "Well...yes...I do. It's just that --" His mumbling and stuttering made me feel like more and more of a bitch with each passing second. Why did I have to start up another argument? I was trying to seduce Oliver, (sort of), not make him my enemy.

"Look," I said, and he stopped his rambling, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I just want to talk about something else right now, that's all. I know Quidditch is your life, and it's really important to me as well, but do you think that just for tonight, we could put the plays and strategies on hold until practice on Monday?"

He stopped walking, turned towards me and whispered, "I had no idea you felt that way." Ever so gently, he took his hand and pushed my wavy brown hair behind my ear. As he did this, his lips formed a tight crooked smile that sent my body into immediate overdrive. My senses went into overdrive. I felt his fingers; how gentle they were, yet it seemed as though they somehow possessed this hidden inner strength. I felt his breath on my cheek. And I could swear I could hear his heart beating in time with mine for just a second. "You look..."

"Yes?" I asked. Pretty? Beautiful? Stunning?

"You look...different," he replied simply.

"Oh." I couldn't help hoping that I sounded disappointed. Apparently, I succeeded, because he stopped playing with my hair, his expression went from starry-eyed to stern as he told me that I looked different in a good way. "I'm not wearing my Quidditch uniform; that's why," I told him, jokingly.

He chuckled. "Yeah. Probably." And so we continued to our destination. The rest of the walk was quiet, but surprisingly not an awkward silence, but rather a comfortable silence between two friends.

We arrived at The Three Broomsticks. Oliver opened the door for me like any proper gentleman would do for any lady on a date. Things were definitely looking up. I spotted an empty table in the crowded pub and pointed to it so Oliver could see where I was headed. I took a few steps towards the only vacant table as he followed. After pushing fiercely through the groups of tightly packed wizards and witches, we settled down in a comfy booth at the back. The huge crowd that overtook the pub a minute before was starting to die down - along with the noise level - as people left. Finally, we could sit and actually relax. Then with a sudden and rather painful start I realized that now was the moment to start talking and acting differently if I wanted us to become anything more than friends.

I sat with my back straight, stomach sucked in and breasts pushed out. I twirled the ends of my hair mindlessly with my fingers. "I like your shirt," I said in the most seductive voice I could conjure up. Automatically, his eyes drifted to his shirt and back up again. He muttered something really fast. It sounded kind of like thankyoumymomboughtit. Then, I pulled the ultimate move. I rested my elbows on the table, leaned forward so he could see some cleavage in my baby blue V-neck tee and whispered, "I love your hair. It looks so soft." I reached up with one hand and tousled and played with his hair. His eyes drifted from my eyes to my chest without any hesitation. After a second, he finally realized where he was looking and looked back up at my eyes. I then gave him the sexiest side smile that he's ever seen.

Well…I tried to.

He cleared his throat, removed my hand from his soft brown hair and looked at me with worried eyes. "Are you okay?"

I felt the heat climbing up from my toes, up to my neck and finally my cheeks. I could bet you anything that my whole face was beet red at that moment. What was I doing? Oliver probably thought I was some kind of freak! I should have known that trying to change my demeanor would only get me into trouble. I had learned my lesson and I wasn't going to do it again, that was for damn sure. I sat back in my chair and said, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, you're acting kind of..." he said with a I'd-rather-be-anywhere-else-but-here look. And at that moment, I really did wish I was anywhere else but there as well I zipped up my jacket, crossed my arms around my chest and stared out the window. Even though I was fully covered up (thanks to my jacket) I suddenly felt very open and exposed. I'd never felt that way before. And let me be the first to tell you that it's not exactly the greatest feeling in the world. Above all, I was just downright embarrassed. My temples throbbed, my vision became blurry and soon my cheeks felt wet and my tongue tasted like tears.

"Different in a bad way?" I finished for him. He didn't answer. He just stared out the window at the people passing by, just like me.

Silently, we both stood up from the table at The Three Broomsticks and walked home. The walk was uneventful, to say the least. Neither of us said a word the whole way. You literally could have taken a knife and cut the thick tension that hung all around us.

I cried almost all the way home. I had no idea my body could produce that many tears. I hardly ever cried. Even though I've faced some of the most brutal quidditch injuries known to mankind. But I would always get through it. But that night, things were different and it actually felt really good to let it all out. I wasn't crying just because of what happened in Hogsmeade, I was actually crying for a lot of reasons.

I cried because school, homework and long Quidditch practices left me exhausted. I cried because I was confused about my love, my life and my love life. Do I even have to mention Oliver? I was a mess.

Late that night, I entered my dorm, and went to bed, hoping to sleep off the pain.


	6. Falling In Love at a Coffee Shop

_**Author's Note: Thank you all for the great reviews guys! Keep them coming! :)**_

_heyyodude: Thanks so much. I appreciate the suggestion and I shall definitely try my best to include Fred and George in some way! :)_

**CHAPTER SIX**

We finally arrived at The Three Broomsticks. Oliver opened the door for me like any proper gentleman would do for any lady on a date. Things were definitely looking up. I spotted an empty table in the crowded pub and pointed to it so Oliver could see where I was headed. I took a few steps towards the only vacant table as he followed. After pushing fiercely through the groups of tightly packed wizards and witches, we settled down in a comfy booth at the back. The huge crowd that overtook the pub a minute before was starting to die down - along with the noise level - as people left. Finally, we could sit and actually relax. Then with a sudden and rather painful start I realized that now was the moment to start talking and acting differently if I wanted us to become anything more than friends.

I sat with my back straight, stomach sucked in and breasts pushed out. I twirled the ends of my hair mindlessly with my fingers. "I like your shirt," I said in the most seductive voice I could conjure up. Automatically, his eyes drifted to his shirt and back up again. He muttered something really fast. It sounded kind of like thankyoumymomboughtit. Then, I pulled the ultimate move. I rested my elbows on the table, leaned forward so he could see some cleavage in my baby blue V-neck tee and whispered, "I love your hair. It looks so soft." I reached up with one hand and tousled and played with his hair. His eyes drifted from my eyes to my chest without any hesitation. After a second, he finally realized where he was looking and looked back up at my eyes. I then gave him the sexiest side smile that he's ever seen.

Well…I tried to.

He cleared his throat, removed my hand from his soft brown hair and looked at me with worried eyes. "Are you okay?"

I felt the heat climbing up from my toes, up to my neck and finally my cheeks. I could bet you anything that my whole face was beet red at that moment. What was I doing? Oliver probably thought I was some kind of freak! I should have known earlier that trying to change my demeanor would only get me into trouble. I had learned my lesson and I wasn't going to do it again, that was for damn sure. I sat back in my chair and said, "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, you're acting kind of..." he said with a I'd-rather-be-anywhere-else-but-here look. And at that moment, I really did wish I was anywhere else but there as well I zipped up my jacket, crossed my arms around my chest and stared out the window. Even though I was fully covered up (thanks to my jacket) I suddenly felt very open and exposed. I'd never felt that way before. And let me be the first to tell you that it's not exactly the greatest feeling in the world. Above all, I was just downright embarrassed. My temples throbbed, my vision became blurry and soon my cheeks felt wet and my tongue tasted like tears.

"Different in a bad way?" I finished for him. He didn't answer. He just stared out the window at the people passing by, just like me.

Silently, we both stood up from the table at The Three Broomsticks and walked home. The walk was uneventful, to say the least. Neither of us said a word the whole way. You literally could have taken a knife and cut the thick tension that hung all around us.

I cried almost all the way home. I had no idea my body could produce that many tears. I hardly ever cried. Even though I've faced some of the most brutal quidditch injuries known to mankind. But I would always get through it. But that night, things were different and it actually felt really good to let it all out. I wasn't crying just because of what happened in Hogsmeade, I was actually crying for a lot of reasons.

I cried because school, homework and long Quidditch practices left me exhausted. I cried because I was confused about my love, my life and my love life. Do I even have to mention Oliver? I was a mess.

Late that night, I entered my dorm, and went to bed, hoping to sleep off the pain.

When I woke up the next morning, my whole body felt stiff. I sat up in bed and stretched out the aching muscles in my legs as much as I could. A grin started to form on my face as I replayed the dream I had from the night before in my head. I chuckled softly as I remembered the part in my dream where I tried to seduce my silly Quidditch captain. God, I acted like such a tramp, I thought. After a few moments of enjoying my ridiculous dream from the previous night, I removed it from my mind as I thought about what I actually did last night. My eyes squinted in confusion as I tried to recollect the events. And after a few seconds, my heart rate sped up rapidly, as I finally recalled every single little painful detail.

My dream was real. What happened in my dream, actually did happen in real life. I groaned aloud and sunk back into bed, never wanting to leave the familiar sheets. I started to groan even louder as I heard a flap of wings enter my dorm. It was, of course, my owl, Athena, delivering emergency mail. I was in no mood to deal with her right then. To send her the message (that I didn't want to deal with her), I pulled my covers over my head and waited for her to leave. Athena landed delicately at the end of my bed, put down the letter she had in her beak and flew back out of my dorm without disturbing me. I made a mental note to give her a treat later for being on such good behavior.

When I was sure Athena was gone, I kicked off the blankets and retrieved the letter she'd delivered. As soon as I touched it, the letter opened itself and turned into a pair of lips that rose into the air until it was at eye level with me. "This is a message from: Oliver Wood." the lips said. I gasped. Oliver? What did he want? The lips continued; only this time, it was Oliver's voice, "Good morning everyone. I would like all Quidditch team members to get dressed as quickly as they can. I request that you go to the Quidditch pitch and wait for my arrival there. I also request that you be awake and ready for a very long and strenuous practice. Thank you for listening. I'll see you all out on the field." Then, the pair of lips shredded itself up into a million little pieces.

I glanced at the time. My watch read seven am. Seven? What was Oliver's deal? It was, after all, Sunday morning. As a Sunday tradition, I don't get out of bed until ten am. I moped and groaned and screamed inside my head like a little girl as I grudgingly followed Oliver Wood's instructions.

I looked out onto the Quidditch pitch. And what I saw wasn't pretty. What I saw was ten of my teammates, dressed in their uniforms (like Oliver's orders said to), but they certainly didn't look awake and ready for practice at all. Their droopy, baggy eyes, unruly hair and zombie-like gaits made my usually cheery teammates look like they were about to pass out cold at any possible second. Not one of us said a word to each other. I assumed we were saving our energy to let off our anger on the person we were really mad at. And that person would be the one and only, Oliver Wood. Only he would make us practice in the wee hours of the morning not giving a rat's ass about anyone else's feelings.

After ten minutes of standing around, the asshole finally decided to show up. Before we even had the chance to let off a little steam, he held his hand up and looked down on us as if to say 'I don't even want to hear it'. Then, he said, "Fifteen laps around."

The practice was, in a word...hell. The first fifteen laps were just the beginning. It was non-stop. This drill. That drill. Practice this. Practice that. No water breaks. No bathroom breaks. We practiced for five hours. Five nonstop hours of Oliver's yelling. His voice burned holes in our ears every time he wasn't satisfied. The very husky voice that I fell in love with was the very voice I had ended up cringing at every time I heard it. Five nonstop hours of sweating, groaning, complaining, de-hydration and aching muscles. I would totally understand Oliver's sudden need for intense training if we had a big game coming up (or even just a scrimmage). But, we didn't. Have any games, I mean. None at all.

I was not in love Oliver Wood any longer.

At least, that's what I kept trying to tell myself. What did I need to be in love with a jerk like that for? I had enough problems in my life thank you very much. I ignored him. And I even avoided him at all costs. But...it wasn't like he was exactly itching to talk to me either, so it just made my job a whole lot easier. I leave him alone and he leaves me alone. Perfect. Right? That was enough for me, wasn't it? I would find out soon enough.


	7. Strawberry Fields Forever

**_Author Notes: Thanks again for all the lovely reviews! Keep 'em coming!_**

**_Also, if anyone is interested, I am running an Original Fiction/Fanfiction Contest. If you are interested in submitting, email me! My info is found on my profile page!_**

**_The prizes are very exciting! I hope you submit something!_**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"-and you'll be working in partners. As always, your partner will be the person sitting next to you," McGonagall finally said after a long lecture on our final project. She turned to face me. "Katie? Could I speak to you a moment?" McGonagall asked me sternly. I nodded and walked up to her desk. She then steered me to a far corner of the classroom where she was positive we wouldn't be overheard. She said, "Katie I'm sorry, but, it appears that you are currently failing my class."

I flinched slightly. I wasn't surprised of course. It was expected, but it still hurt to hear it.

"However," she began, adjusting her glasses a bit, "I am willing to pass you on the condition that your final project is high quality work and receives a high grade. To make this easier for you, I have found someone in the advanced transfiguration class who is willing to help you with this project. He will be somewhat like a mentor, but think of him as a partner."

I nodded. "Anything to bring up my grade."

"Wait here, I will go fetch him," she responded curtly.

So this new partner was going to be a he. I got the feeling that I would like this new partner very much. A minute later, McGonagall was back with my mystery man. And the person I saw was not whom I was expecting at all. That's because the person that sauntered in the classroom behind McGonagall was Oliver I just kind of stood there trying really hard not to scream. I was acutely aware that McGonagall was asking me if it was okay that Oliver be my partner. But, I was numb all over. So I just nodded lamely. Then, without another word, McGonagall walked away with a smug expression, leaving us alone.

"You're not doing it right," Oliver complained as I practiced the spell we were working on. We'd only been working with each other for one day and the arguing had already begun. I was forever doing things wrong and he was forever blabbing on and on about how he's always fixing my mistakes and how I never learned.

So far, I'd been really good about not letting personal feelings get in the way of the project. Everything was perfectly fine between us. It wasn't awkward at all. Not.

"If you're so smart, then why don't you do the bloody spell?" I yelled in a hushed tone.

"Nice thinking genius. If I do the spell, then how do you expect to pass the class?" he shot back.

I was infuriated. It felt like he slapped me really hard across the face. I was trembling now. "Give me the wand."

The task was to attempt a spell at least five different objects (of our choice) and record our observations. Then we had to write a five page essay on why the five different objects had reacted differently even though they all had been altered with the same exact spell. Boring. Oliver had been no help at all. I had to pick the five objects by myself because he claimed that helping me pick the objects would be "unfair to everyone else". Bullshit. So, in the end, I ended up choosing a dead rat, a comb, a pair of old jeans, an old wand and a wine glass. I tried the spell again and again, but it never seemed to work.

"Would you please just shut up and help me do the damn spell?" I asked through gritted teeth. I don't know if it was my do-what-I-say-or-I'll-kill-you attitude or what, but he actually did shut up and performed the spell just like I asked him to.

Oliver was becoming more and more of a permanent fixture in my life no matter how hard I tried for him to be less and less involved. It was always Oliver this and Oliver that. I just couldn't catch a break.

Practice was actually tolerable that day. I was really looking forward to heading back to the dorms, taking a long hot shower and then doing some homework I had waiting for me. I was the last one off the field. I wanted to practice the new move we'd just learned a few more times just to make sure I had it down. But as I walked to the locker room, I was suddenly interrupted by Oliver.

"Katie? Could you come back here a second?" he asked. I didn't say anything except for a soft groan (which he wasn't meant to hear) and then I walked back to the field to see what he wanted. "What do you want Wood?"

He looked up at me from the equipment case and said, "Whoa. Crabby much?" Let's just say, my temper rose. A lot.

"What. Do. You. Want?" I asked again, sounding out each letter and syllable.

When he noticed that I wasn't changing my attitude, he stood up and walked over to me. He stood in front of me so that his body was so close to mine that they were almost touching and his head was crooked downward, right above mine, in a very intimidating manner. And, was I intimidated? Hell yeah I was. I'm not made of stone. His shoulders were hunched, his eyes were blazing. That was when I realized that...I was actually scared of Oliver. I was scared in every sense of the word. I never thought this day would come.

"What did you just say to me?" he demanded.

My eyes drifted down from his burning eyes to his shoes. His shoes were easier to look at. "What's your problem anyway? Why are you always messing with me?"

He didn't say anything for a while. I could see his fists clenched and his body tighten suddenly. I took a chance and stopped analyzing his shoes and looked up at his baby blues. We gazed into each other's eyes as if we were having a staring contest, neither of us wanting to look away.

And then all of a sudden, his lips were on mine, kissing hungrily like he'd been dying to do it for a long time. One of his arms was around my back and one was in my hair. It was the same for me; one of my arms was around his neck and one was dug deep into his hair.

I was so shocked that I just kept on kissing him. But, seriously, what the hell was I supposed to do? Stop kissing him? Ha. There is no way in hell I was going to do that. After a few moments, things really started to get heated up and out of control. The only reason I knew that things were getting that way was because all of a sudden my back hit the ground and I realized that he was lying on top of me on the ground. In some distant part of my mind I wondered when I should stop kissing him and I also wondered what this make-out session actually meant for the two of us.

Soon enough, he'd stopped kissing me. But then he started kissing my cheek, and then he moved down to my neck from there. Eventually he stopped and he was just laying on top of me, breathing hard. Well, we both were. Breathing hard, I mean. I took advantage of the fact that I had my lips to myself.

"Oliver?"

"Hmm?" he lifted his head from my chest and looked me in the eyes.

"What the hell just happened?"

"No fucking clue."

"Okay. I just wanted to know," I said lamely.


	8. Hide and Seek

_**Author Notes: Hey guys, thanks for the wonderful reviews**_

**_heyyodude: Thanks! Actually, I'm not sure why it's a dead rat. Just something miscellaneous I guess. It doesn't really make a difference for the story._**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

We didn't start dating after that particular incident. In fact, we didn't say a word to each other thereafter. It was as if there was this invisible barrier between us. An unspoken rule that we were no longer friends. Not enemies, mind you. We still acknowledged each other during Quidditch practice. But, we could no longer go back to the level of friendship after what had happened. I regretted the kiss. Because pissy Oliver was ten times better than no Oliver at all. Which just goes to show how hooked I was to him.

And then one day before practice, Oliver announced that he had been accepted into the reserve team at Puddlemere United. He was elated, I could tell. But there was something else there as well. Relief. Sorrow. Guilt. A combination of many feelings that probably overwhelmed him. I was scared to let him go. Quidditch is a dangerous sport. He could have gotten hurt, died even. I didn't know if I was willing to take that risk. But I knew I couldn't stop him. What could I have said? "Oliver, don't go because you will die and I can't let you go because I love you"? He'd have probably thought I was a lunatic.

Still, I felt that he needed to know the risks of the decision he was about to take. I was his closest friend for many years. If I couldn't tell him, who would? It seemed like everyone around him was supportive of the decision but no one bothered to mention that their friend, Oliver Wood, was throwing himself into a death sentence. So I cornered him right before Charms one day. He was sitting alone in the classroom, waiting for other students to pile in. I took the opportunity to share what was on my mind.

"Don't do it."

He turned around to see the source of the noise and frowned when he saw me. "What?"

"Don't do it," I repeated. It was very rehearsed. All morning I'd been repeating 'don't do it' in front of the mirror. Angelina got the impression that I was having sex. It was very awkward.

Oliver was perplexed. "Don't do what exactly?"

I sighed but kept telling myself it was for the best. "Don't say yes to Puddlemere."

"Are you barking mad? Why the hell wouldn't I say yes?" he practically shouted.

"It's hard to explain," I began trying to formulate my words carefully. I would have to be patient to convince him out of that mess he'd found himself in. "I have your best interests at heart and I just think that--"

"Just think what Katie?" His voice was cold and I could see genuine fury in his eyes. I've never seen Oliver quite so upset. That I'm a kid and I can't handle it?"

"Of course not! I just feel that--"

"Oh please, Bell. You have never given a damn about what I wanted. It's always about you, isn't it?"

"That's not true Oliver, and you know it!"

"Is it because you pity me?" he asked, in a soft voice, which kind of startled me because it was so different from his harsh tones a second before.

At that moment I stopped. I was afraid to answer because I knew he would find some way to misconstrue my words and hate me forever.

He laughed coldly. "I knew it. You talked to me, not because I'm your friend, but because you feel sorry for me. Sorry for the guy who lost his sister."

I was furious that he was turning me into some kind of heartless, cruel animal. "Look will you stop being such a bitch about it and listen to what I have to say?"

"You have nothing to say. Now if you'll excuse me, class is going to start soon."

"Oliver, pl--"

He turned his head away.

"Godammit Oliver, I love you!" Had I just said that out loud? Oh my god.

His body stiffened, but he didn't face me. After several painful seconds he whispered, "I think you should go now."

His words were sharp, but I didn't crumble. I didn't even object; I simply walked away, leaving my best friend to carry on with his life.

Graduation came around a couple of months later. I didn't bother to attend the ceremony. I knew it would hurt too much to see him walk across that stage. Witnessing that would have been worse than experiencing any type of physical pain. Seeing him recieve that diploma would tell me two things right away. Yes; Oliver was going on with his life, and no; I was not a part of it. Because if I really had attended the ceremony, I would have ended up apologizing for everything I did and said, and in turn, he would have made some snarky comment, and finally I'd have ended up even more miserable than I already was. Still, I didn't want him to forget everything that happened between us. So that day, I went into Hogsmeade to buy him a graduation present. One that he'd never forget. So, in the future, I would know that there would always be a little bit of me in his mind, no matter what happened.

We met three years later. Mind you, I was half unconscious at the time. I met with a fateful accident in my seventh year. The case of the cursed necklace. No one had known who cursed me and why; but there I was sleeping in bloody St. Mungo's all day recovering from that awful mess. I was fuming. Whoever put me through all that pain and torment was going to pay, of that I was sure. I would be willing to do anything and everything in my power to make sure that person would experience the equal or more amount of pain that I did recieve.

I was resting in my room one day, plotting evil plans against my curser, when all of a sudden I heard someone mumble, "Oh shit. That bad?"

It was Wood; I knew it. I recognized his voice after all those years. My first instinct was to run up to him and hug him tightly. But then I realized that I couldn't get up. I couldn't even see. The last time I had opened my eyes was right before I collapsed fifty feet from the air. Everyone was afraid I wouldn't make it. Hell, even I was afraid. But I was recovering. Very slowly, of course, but still recovering. Unfortunately, it was not enough to open my eyes and take a long look at the man I fell in love with. I had to settle for listening to his strained voice by the door.

"Who did this to her?" he whispered fearfully.

"No one knows yet. Dumbledore is still trying to find it out," I could hear Angelina say.

"I'm really worried about Katie. She hasn't even opened her eyes yet." Alicia? That was definitely Alicia speaking. What were they all doing here?

"What have the doctors said?" Oliver asked.

"She's going to be all right. The necklace made the least contact possible with her skin, so they were able to save her. Recovery will be slow though," Angelina replied. "She'll be missing most of school."

Then, nobody spoke. I could hear footsteps coming towards my direction. And then I could feel someone's breathing against my right ear.

"Katie," Oliver whispered, his voice quivering. I was paralyzed but I could feel myself shiver very slightly as he spoke into my ear. "Katie, can you hear me?" He was silent for a second. His breaths were short and raspy now. He didn't say anything else. A couple of minutes later, I could hear footsteps. And then there was silence.


	9. Lollipop

_**Author Notes: Thanks for the reviews!!**_

**_heyyodude: Actually, even though she didn't remember anything, she could still hear people talking in the background. She couldn't open her eyes or speak, but a part of her was still conscious. So she could hear doctors and relatives talk about the fall. Thanks for the great review! That is very kind of you. :)_**

**_JessFantasy16: Happy ending for sure. :) I wouldn't be able to bear dealing with a sad ending. If it ended sadly, we'd make it a very sweet sad ending. _**

_Three years earlier,_

_It was a warm day in May. The sun was beginning to set behind the dusty hills. __I hurried along the narrow path to Hogwarts. I wanted to return to Hogwarts before dark. I didn't want to get caught by those dementors patrolling the grounds. _

_When I finally arrived at Hogsmeade, I turned to observe the shops. Almost all of the shops were closed. I turned the corner and searched for the nearest open shop. Finally, after a few minutes, I spotted a store called Gwendolyn's Goods. _

_It was empty except for a middle aged couple browsing through sets of china. Eagerly, I began my search for the perfect graduation present for Oliver. The store sold mostly random home decoration items, but I was bound to find something nice, right? I picked up a set of scented candles. Would Oliver appreciate scented candles? I didn't think so, but I put kept it as an option. I walked further along the aisle and saw various electronic items charmed to do specific things. Like an alarm clock which could physically hoist you up if you didn't wake up on time. I added that to my list of options as well, even though Oliver Wood didn't need an alarm clock. He could wake up at 3 AM on his own if need be, as long as Quidditch practice was involved. _

_In the books section, I spotted a book titled "10000 Quidditch Maneuvers From the Beginning of Time". Now, Oliver would love that. I thought about it for a moment. It was a practical gift. Something he would like and read for a long time. But it just didn't make sense to buy it. It just felt so informal and common. It was so expected and there was no element of surprise. I wanted to buy something memorable. So I placed the book back in the shelf and continued my search. _

_After thirty minutes of long and tiring pursuit of the greatest gift Oliver will have ever received, I finally found what I was looking for. It was in the back section. Clearly, not many people had been in that aisle too often, because everything was covered in dust. The gift was a dainty silver keepsake box embedded with small emeralds and rhinestones. I wiped off a layer of dust that gathered on the box and took it to the counter to purchase._

_Once I returned to Hogwarts, I searched around my dorm for items to place inside the keepsake box. I found two pictures of Oliver and I. One was taken right after we won the Quidditch Cup. I was hugging Oliver tightly and he beamed as he held up the trophy. Another was taken in my third year during one of Fred and George's wild common room parties. Oliver was sitting on the couch sipping firewhiskey and I was next to him excitedly sharing the latest news concerning The Tornadoes. We both looked so happy back then. I grinned as the memories came rushing back and gently placed both pictures on the velvet lining of the box. I scanned the other items I had managed to dig up from my shelves. A bundle of daisies (which by now was dry) that Oliver pinned to my hair on the last day of my third year. A hat I bought him from Hogsmeade which read: Sexiest Quidditch Captain. I never had the guts to give it to him though. And finally, the results of my Transfiguration project (I had received an E). I was so proud that day and I wanted to tell Oliver, but he refused to talk to me. I placed everything in the box and sealed it shut. I sent the package to Oliver by owl and hoped he would accept it. Perhaps, one day he would open it and remember every little thing that happened between us._

Katie's Seventh Year (At St. Mungo's):

I blinked.

The world was clearing up all of a sudden. The blackness was replaced with colors, patterns and shapes. Vivid images began to form. I shook my head, expecting this to be a dream. But it was all very much real. I realized two things at once: I could see, I could breathe.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

And I could speak.

My mother who was sitting by my side looked up. She had bags under her eyes, rumpled clothes and knotted hair. She looked so tired but relief spilled onto her face right then.

"Katie," she said breathlessly. "Katie, you're awake." She cried out in joy, grasping me in a tight embrace. We stayed like that for a few moments, and to be honest, there was nowhere on earth I would have much rather been.

I smiled. It felt so good to be back. I glanced around the room. My gaze fell upon a small silver box on my bedside table. I gasped. Oliver's present.

"Mum, where did this come from?"

She shrugged absent mindedly. "I think one of your friends dropped it off here a few days ago." She slid her fingers through my hair affectionately. "Such sweet people. You've had so many visitors." She stood up and said, "I am going to go back home and tell everyone the good news. I will be right back. Is that okay?"

I nodded and she disapparated. When she was gone, I picked up the box from the table and opened it slowly. It was definitely the same gift I gave Oliver. All the things I placed in the box were still there. Except now, there was an addition to the box. A small piece of parchment. I unfolded the parchment, which read:

_Me too._

_-O_

What a thoroughly ambiguous letter it was. Oliver had definitely sent it, but why did he sign it as "O"? And what did "Me too" mean? I was unbelievably confused. But I had figured that when the time was right, I would figure it out.


	10. Can't Let Go

**CHAPTER TEN**

_**Author Notes: This story will be slightly frustrating for quite a bit. But I think that's how a story should be. It should be realistic. Frankly speaking, nobody gets exactly what they want and also knows what they want in the beginning. You have to go through many experiences to get to that level, even if those experiences aren't exactly pleasant. I know you are thinking "What the hell!? Why is Katie with this Alastair guy? What happened to Oliver?" See, this situation is actually quite common. Sometimes, the perfect guy comes along. He is gorgeous, intelligent, romantic, and kind. And he seems to think you are just as wonderful. And things get serious. But then you think about it. Is he what you want? Do you want perfection? What if you actually really want that amazing physics partner of yours who sometimes pays a lot of attention to you and sometimes ignores you. Or in this case, Katie actually wants that cranky quidditch captain who gave her hell? Or maybe she gave up on Oliver because he wasn't worth crying over? Maybe she really wants Alastair. Wow, this is getting long. Anyways, just keep going along with this story. You will like it, I promise. And as always, REVIEW!  
**_

_1 year after Katie's Graduation,_

I became a trainee healer. It was difficult, of course. Many sleepless nights, and the mounting pressure to save someone's life. But it paid well. In fact, the hospital was very generous with me, considering I had practically no experience in the medical field (and more experience on the Quidditch field, might I add). I was also fresh out of Hogwarts and to be working in such a prestigious and honorable profession was more than I could have ever expected. And let me not forget the moment of bliss I experienced every time I saved someone's life. Seeing the faces of family members when I announced "He's going to be okay" was worth all the pain and effort.

I lived in a small apartment in Bloomsbury. A moderate lifestyle. I didn't believe in living lavishly, because it was unnecessary. Especially in those troubling times, it seemed unfair to have absolutely everything. Muggles and wizards were dying because of You-Know-Who's rampage. Many families were left to die in poverty because their breadwinner had upset him somehow. So I stuck to the absolute necessities. I even regularly donated money to charities created solely for the purpose of aiding You-Know-Who's victims and their families. And that's how I met Alastair Coxhill. He was the president of one such support group. I was dropping off a fair share of gold at their main depository, when his eyes found mine. He was a tall, slender man with dark hair and even darker eyes. At first glance, I thought he was one of the thousand workers who were employed at that institution. But then I looked closer and found a tag pinned to his robes which read "Alastair Coxhill-President". He smiled; it was deep and genuine. I could feel the corners of my mouth tugging upwards. He was magnetic. His magic was a different kind. The sort of person who kept his charms bottled up and would release them every now and then. And the release was explosive. Like you couldn't help but fall for him.

"Hi," he said softly. His voice was velvety smooth. Like rich folds of chocolate melting over layers of cream.

After several awkward moments of awe, I managed to stutter out a hello. We stood in silence for a few seconds. The air was thick with tension. I finally couldn't stand the weirdness of the situation, so I turned to leave. Being the clumsy girl I am, I tripped. On a flat surface too. It was to be expected, of course. Every time I would meet a hot guy, I would find some way to humiliate myself. I heard a chuckle behind me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking very amused.

"I'm fine," I muttered quickly. I felt the blood rising to my cheeks and suddenly the room felt very hot.

He strode towards me and my eyes widened. "No scratches? Bruises?"

I raised one eyebrow. "I don't think so."

He smiled a little and said, "Well, I think we better just make sure. Company policy, you know."

"Oh yeah? What policy is that?"

"Every time a pretty girl trips in this building, they are offered a complimentary coffee with the president."

I laughed. "How many girls has that worked on?"

He grinned. "Just you. I guess that says a lot about my skills of flirtation."

"Well then, I'll make your day and take you up on that offer."

We had coffee. Coffee turned into watching a movie at the multiplex which turned into dinner by the beach which turned into casual sex in his one bedroom apartment in Westminster. And then pretty soon, we were using the "l" word. He was all mine, and I couldn't have been happier.

**2 weeks before the final battle:**

"You know, you're going to have to get up some time," he muttered.

"Mmm, not yet." I pulled myself closer to his bare chest and felt his fingers smoothing out my hair. "Work can wait for another hour."

"Ah, but my little Ekaterina, now that I have reminded you of your priorities, our snogging session will be more reluctant. And we can't have that now, can we?"

"I don't know why you insist on calling me Ekaterina," I growled. "I am not bloody Russian."

"Mmm, you're so hot when you're pissed," he whispered.

I laughed and hit him lightly on the head with the back of my hand. "You're so full of it."

"Well you know how it is. I'm a package deal, baby. You know how when you go to McDonalds or buy a box of cereal, they offer you a free ugly lameass action figure? Just like that, you get my cockiness along with this vibrant personality."

"Yeah, I suppose," I said thoughtfully. "Except, I'm not buying you. That, my dear, would be called prostitution."

"And who say's I'm not a prostitute?" he asked, smirking. I hit him again playfully, but he caught my hand and pulled me closer to him so that my body was lying on top of his.

"The light does wonderful, magical things to your eyes."

"Is that so?" I asked breathlessly. I could feel my pulse racing madly.

"It's like I can see different aspects of you from different angles just by looking at your eyes."

I smiled a little. "Interesting. Is that why you love me?"

He rolled his eyes. "As much as your eyes make my heart skip a beat, you have other features, you know? Your lips, for example." His gaze flickered to my mouth for a second. "Did you know your lips drive me mad with desire?"

"Oh?" I said, my eyebrows raising just a bit. I pouted my lips teasingly just to tempt him.

His lips glued to mine with a sudden fierceness and his fingers were wrapping around my face tightly. There was a low moan in his throat which sent me into some kind of electric frenzy. I weaved my fingers into his dark hair and slid my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. It was a thrilling experience. To feel like you were wading through warm waters in the middle of the sea. And embracing the waves as they came crashing down. At some point, Alastair hesitated and backed away. His eyes wandered a bit, like he was distracted or unsure.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, trying to figure out if I had done something wrong.

"I'm fine, I'm just a little tense. Trying to gather up the courage to do something you see."

I was beyond confused now. "What are you thinking?" I asked him. His head turned to face me, and he sighed. He quickly slid his fingers into the pockets of his pants. His fingers closed in on something.

"Now I know people usually want this kind of thing to happen on a yacht or under the stars or something. But you've always appreciated simplicity. Now, of course if you want me to get you a yacht or something..."

"What?"

"Never mind. Okay, I'm just going to go for this."

He slid off the bed and got down on one knee. I gasped.

"Katherine Bell, will you marry me?"

I was shocked. I had not expected this. Did I want to marry Alastair? He was the only man who loved me like that. Something in my mind told me that that wasn't true, but I dismissed the thought. Alastair loved me. And I loved him. So why was it so difficult? 'Suck it up Bell,' I thought confidently.

"Yes," I said simply. "I will marry you."

He grinned widely and kissed my fingertips. "Thank you." Then he slid a thin golden band attached to an intricately carved diamond onto my finger. It was beautiful. I felt a bit guilty just then for taking such a long time to think about it. So I kissed his lips with such a fiery passion, it was a surprise we didn't set the place on fire.

We spent half an hour in each other's arms, before I finally realized I was late for work. I hurriedly got dressed for work and grabbed my purse. Just as I was about half way to the door, Alastair spoke.

"By the way, one of my friends is coming to town tomorrow. I invited him to dinner."

"Okay, sounds good. Who is it?"

"Maybe you've heard of him. He's a pro quidditch player. Oliver Wood?"


	11. Day N Nite

_**Author's Note: Yeah. I know I haven't updated this pretty much in a year. Two reasons: A. I didn't really think anyone was particularly interested (myself included). B. Senior year, ya know? Well now that high school is over and I find that one year later, people want to read the story, I'll update as much as I can. Actually, I have nothing to do this summer except stare at the ceiling, so that's one of the biggest reasons for this HUGE comeback. If some of the details in the coming chapters are fuzzy, it's only because I don't really remember what happened in the story and I'm too lazy to read it again. Actually, from what I have skimmed, the entire story is utterly nonsensical. It doesn't have enough longevity. Okay, let's go!**_

**Chapter Eleven**

_What the fuhhhhhhhh!?!_

"You can't be serious..." I whispered, my eyes widening to an incredible diameter.

"Is there something wrong?" Alastair asked with concern.

I considered the situation carefully. Telling Alastair of my deep, dark past would surely rouse suspicion and that would be completely unnecessary at a time like this. But would Alastair figure it out? _No. I can't tell him about Oliver. It's only one night. I will get through the night and hope that Oliver won't recognize me. Maybe I could slather on an extra layer of eye makeup...._

"Katie?"

"Yeah....oh yeah! Nothing's wrong. What time will he be here?"

"Around seven I think? I get off work at 6:30, so I can pick him up at the station."

"Sounds good," I said, trying to feign a genuine smile. The corners of my lips were quivering to a frown, so I turned my head away.

He pulled me close and stroked my hair gently. "You can't imagine how happy I am today."

This time, my smile was truly genuine. "We'll go over wedding plans soon."

And with a swift kiss on the cheek, he was gone.

_Alone._

I finally had time to think and figure out what the hell was happening. _Okay. So Alastair proposed....that's good, right? And Oliver is his friend...but how do they know each other? Did he say Oliver? Maybe I heard him wrong. Goliver? Mortimer? Blimey, I'm stupid..._

_Okay!_

_Oliver is coming to dinner tomorrow. To my house. No. It's Alastair's house too, because now that we are engaged, we share everything. Even secrets. So should I tell him about Oliver? This is ridiculous. _

There were too many unnecessary thoughts rolling uncomfortably in my head. What I needed was to focus on the wedding, focus on work, and focus on managing tomorrow's dinner.

At work, I wasn't at peace. I felt jittery and nervous for some reason. Maybe it was just because I had everything in the world to do in such a short span of time. So I left work early and decided to start planning the dinner. _I need to look good for Oli-I mean Alastair. Of course, I need to show Oliver that I haven't exactly let go these past few years. I'm still a trim, beautiful, and youthful woman. Maybe I need to exercise or something? Do some crunches?_

I spent the whole evening exercising until I was about to puke. But even if I didn't lose any pounds, it still felt like I did, so that was good. I spent a few hours organizing my makeup. I would need to look my best the next day. For Alastair, of course. Now...what was I going to cook?

Before I could even think about it, I crashed. _I'll figure it out tomorrow. _

**The next day,**

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. There is nothing to eat in the house!_

I ran to the grocery store nearby and picked up whatever I could find. I skipped work that day and spent the afternoon reading over cookbooks. Alastair flooed to work early in the morning before I could even wake up, so at least I didn't have the misfortune of having him watch me stress and figure out that my ex-true love was coming to dinner. I slid the spaghetti into the pot of boiling water. _What next? Do I put in the sauce now? Oh bugger, of course not. It needs to cook....right?_

The afternoon lulled by slowly, but after many failed attempts at making the perfect dinner, I succeeded! With the loveliest cocktail dress I could find, a fresh layer of makeup hiding every little imperfection of mine, and a dinner that would blow his socks off, I was ready. Just then, I heard the door creak open. I braced myself to finally see the man I chased after for so long. But when the steps reached the living room, I could only hear one pair of feet. I arched my neck to see who was in the house. Alastair. Only Alastair. My lips quivered.

"Hey," Alastair said when he saw me peering.

"Where's...your friend?"

"Oh yeah. He can't make it. His captain announced an extra practice tonight. They've got a match tomorrow."

I said nothing.

"Sorry sweetheart. You didn't really cook much, I hope."

I put on another fake smile. "No problem. I ordered most of the dinner from the restaurant anyway."

He laughed. "Sly girl..."

He walked past me, not noticing my dress or makeup, and I followed him to the kitchen.

_**A/N: The story is going to take a darker turn at this point. Not going to be the same old sickly sweet romantic comedy you expected. Be prepared for anything. And as always, keep reviewing!**_


	12. Best I Ever Had

**_Author's Note: Hey look! Two chapters in one day! Just to make up for the one year I've been gone. I told ya it's gonna get darker. And if you think this is dark, better be prepared for much more! Give you a hint: Someone is dying and there will be SCANDAL. Next chapter is the war. Our two star crossed lovers meet again. It's gonna be hottt. And much like my favorite pair from Gossip Girl- Blair and Chuck-these two will take FOREVER to admit anything. Actually, maybe they won't admit anything. Maybe one of them is going to die! GASP! SCANDALOUS, isn't it?_**

**Chapter Twelve**

_Dear Katie,_

_We haven't spoken in over a year. I don't know if it's because you've been busy with your new life or if you're just mad at me and Alicia. I know it's been tough for you these past few years. We know your friendship with Oliver was strained in the end, but it's not as you think. I'm sorry about your dad's death. It was awful for all of us. But you've got to put it all out of your head and just come see us, because we miss you. _

_Did you hear from Fred and George? Their business is skyrocketing. George lost his ear, did you hear? _

_Anyway, we're all going to be in London on the seventh. If you'd like to join us for drinks at The Old Queen's Head, please owl me back. We're picking Alicia up at around 4:30 (we've got to make sure she's dressed in proper Muggle attire. The girl's idea of muggle clothes is the neon green thong she saw someone wearing on MTV!) so you should be there at 5 at least. Give my love to your mum...and take care. _

_Love,_

_Angelina_

I was saving the letter for days, letting it crumple in my pocket until the words seemed to be absorbed through the fabric of my jeans and skin. For the first few days, I was in the don't-see-them-phase. The next couple of days were the see-them phase. These phases cycled every now and then. By the time the seventh rolled by, I was at the see-them phase which became the deciding factor. I was pulling on my beige trench coat when Alastair's voice boomed from the kitchen.

"Mum called. She wants you to meet some of pap's colleagues this Saturday," he said.

"Fine," I mumbled. I didn't want to think about pap. When Angelina mentioned him in the letter, I spent one good hour crying to the point of dehydration. I especially didn't want to face mum after the incident. It happened just a few days after I got a job at St. Mungo's. I came home one day, excited out of my mind because I was working my dream job, when I saw mum sitting on the ugly brown couch one of her sisters gave her as a housewarming present. Her hair was all over her face and her fingers were twitching. The rest of her body was completely still.

_"Mum?"_

_Silence._

_"Mum!?" My voice was screeching with worry this time. "What happened? Why are you--what's wrong mum?"_

_Her head shot up swiftly to reveal her bloodshot eyes. "Your father is dead," she said with no emotion. _

_My body was shaking and I could feel warm water pooling in my eyes. "What are you saying mum?"_

_"Your father is dead!" she screamed. She stood up with unexpected force, grabbed the closest thing near her and hurled it at the wall. A pile of crushed glass and blood was strewn across the tiled floor. _

_And that was when I fainted._

I don't remember much after that. I was in the hospital one day and the next day, I found a place in Bloomsbury. I moved in immediately. Mum called once or twice after that only to tell me about pap's various friends and colleagues who were visiting. I stopped answering Angie's and Alicia's letters. They got the message. I wanted to be left alone. I heard that a couple of Death Eaters murdered pap when he refused to join them. That was around when I became determined to do all I could to fight against these dark forces that were infiltrating the peace of our world.

"I'll see you in the evening!" I shouted back to Alastair, closing the door behind me and taking off into the cold morning air. London was filled with the usual bustle and beauty. It's funny how easily things change. People change as they mature. Their houses change to reflect their tastes. Even their walls get a little bit older. But even the greatest amount of modernization will never change the feel of London afternoons.

I could spot Angie from a mile. Her hair was as big as ever and behind her, Alicia's svelte figure came running to catch up.

"Katie!" I could hear her call. "Get over here!"

I could feel bodies crushing me tightly and for a second, I forgot that we weren't in Hogwarts anymore. They grabbed the folds of my dress and pulled me into the crowded pub. We were soon joined by two grinning twins with fiery orange hair.

"Hello Katie!"

"Fancy a bit of pie?"

"A good shag perhaps?" This, of course, landed a very hard smack across the face from Angelina.

I smiled widely. "Fred...George. It's been ages."

"Hey Katie, do you sense a very spiritual aura from me?" George asked excitedly.

"Why no, George....am I supposed to?"

"Are you sure you don't notice my holey presence?"

"Ha. Ha. Ha."

We spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on everything that had happened the past year. I felt strangely at ease. But that ease stiffened for just a second as I saw who had entered the pub.

"Hey! Look, it's Ollie!" Fred's voice boomed.

Angelina looked over to me nervously.

I smiled awkwardly. "Listen guys, I've got to head back home. Alastair is waiting."

"Okay Katie," Alicia replied understandingly. "And congrats again on your engagement."

"Too bad I didn't propose earlier, eh Katie?" Fred asked, winking monstrously. This, of course, landed him another tight slap across the face from Angie. I looked down and ran to the exit, hoping Oliver didn't see me.

_**A/N: Like always, just a reminder. Be ready for the worst. Next chapter is going to be a lil gruesome. But you know me. I like my candy sickly sweet and my teddy bears fluffy. There will be a happy ending, trust me! **_


	13. Dead and Gone

_**Author's Note: Glad to see you guys are still interested in this story. Sorry for the long wait in updating. I've been reading a story myself. It's called the Kite Runner (you must have heard of it) and its a gripping tale of life in Afghanistan (and beyond). It's given me quite a bit of inspiration on how I would like this story to turn out. This chapter was especially hard to write, because I needed to remind myself of my audience (most of whom are banking on a happy ending with lots of fluff) and I also needed to write something believable because that's what I want. It's a tough chapter, but bear through it, and it will be worth it!**_

**Chapter Thirteen**

I woke up with the memory of shrieks and desperate sobbing still etched into my brain. My eyes flung open, but darkness formed a thick veil over my sight.

"Alastair!" I called from the empty bedroom. "Alastair, where are you?"

There was only burning silence. I flung the sheets out of the way and attempted to maneuver myself out of the bedroom. I stumbled across the thick carpet until I found the light switch. I clicked it on, hoping to find what I was looking for, but the house was empty. I circulated the entire place, but Alastair wasn't there. Finally, I found a note on the wooden table in the living room. The handwriting was dark and carelessly scrawled.

_Hogwarts under attack. Dark Lord out loose. Many casualties. I'll be back as soon as I can. _

_Love,_

_Alastair_

My jaw dropped and my fingers gripped my face tightly. I could feel my body collapsing from the shock. _No, no, no. This can't happen. You'll kill them!_

At that very second, an owl flew through the open window and dropped a piece of parchment. It was Angelina's owl.

_Katie,_

_You-Know-Who is attacking Hogwarts. We need your help. Most of the D.A is already there. Apparate here as soon as you get this message!_

_Angie_

There was no hesitation. I knew what I needed to do. I would fight even if it meant dying. I grabbed my coat and disapparated into the world I had always feared.

When I arrived at Hogwarts, I saw the same scene as the one I had dreamt the night before. The castle was abalaze amidst the bleeding bodies being dragged across the lawn. The faces were unrecognizable as if they had lost their identity after being brutally murdered. They would never be remembered. Exactly what Voldemort wanted. He wanted people to feel worthless because to him, that's exactly what they were. And at that very moment, I witnessed my first murder. A cloaked figure appeared from seemingly nowhere, pulled back its wand and struck. A flash of green light hit the body of Colin Creevey, a boy that I had known during my study at Hogwarts. His body collapsed almost immediately. The air felt heavy. Something into sunk into the pit of my stomach and clenched me tightly. _Can't breathe...can't do it....I can't be here..._

A feeling of nausea churned in me uncomfortably. I wanted to die on the spot. I wanted nothing more than to die.

_Voices._

_I hear voices._

Someone tugged at my shoulder and spun me around. Was it bad that I couldn't recognize who it was? All I could see was the outline of a body. But I knew I would not be harmed.

"Katie..."

It came out as a whisper.

"Katie!" The outline tugged harder and suddenly, I could feel cool water splashing across my face. I came out of my reverie as soon as I fell into it.

It was Alicia.

"Alicia...I need to--"

"What you need to do is snap out of it and fight. Fight for Hogwarts,"

I was sick with guilt. How could I have just thought of leaving? _This is my home. This is where I need to be._

"Absolutely," I replied, confidence surging throughout me.

I gave a good fight. Everything I had learned seemed to appear into my mind, ready to use. It was as if my education was fighting with me. Fighting for what was right. My school was under attack, but under no circumstances was it silent and resigned. I could feel the energy all around me.

Ocassionally, I would see something I didn't want to see. More innocent lives being lost. I even saw Oliver and Neville carrying the lifeless body of Colin Creevey across the courtyard. But I pushed it away, because the task required complete focus.

I could almost hear the voice of my father directing me to strike there and turn away because a spell was flying in my direction.

But then, a chilling sound erupted in the air. He was there. He was going to kill Harry Potter. There was a hush and then, the world around me collapsed.

**2 days later,**

I woke up at St. Mungo's, an all too familiar feeling. It was as if death was lurching towards me dangerously, trying to take me away. But I always escaped. There was nobody at my bedside except for a trainee healer stirring a thick black fluid in a silver goblet.

"Oh, you're awake!" she said in a kind voice. "Just a moment, m'dear!"

Moments later, a prim looking man in dark blue velvet robes entered the room. "I'm glad to see you are awake, Miss Bell. You've been out for two days."

"What...what happened?"

"You were hit by backfiring jinx. Nasty effects as you may have heard. As if your entire body had been ruptured. You were quite lucky if I may say so."

It took me a while to process what I had just heard. "So are there any...permanent damages?"

"None as of now," he said gently. His fingers tapped the clipboard to a steady rhythm. "There might be some feeling of disorientation and some slight headaches later. But the other healers back at the Dai Llewellyn ward stitched you right up and performed a concealing charm for the scars. Not to worry dear, you will be back on your feet within a few days and you can get right back to work!"

My eyes shot straight up. "Work...so that means?..."

"You-Know-Who has been defeated!"

I jumped up. "WHAT?"

With a giant grin plastered across his face, he handed me the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, wished me speedy recovery and walked out of the room jovially.

I read the paper twice, a feeling of shock washing over me each time. Harry Potter had saved us all. God knows how he did it, but he did it...

_I wonder how Alastair feels..._

But then it dawned on me that nobody was there. When I asked the trainee healer if anyone had visited me while I was out, she told me that they hadn't.

_Where is everybody? Does...no one care?_

"Who admitted me here?" I demanded, my eyes blaring with anger.

The healer looked a bit taken aback by this sudden change in emotion. "A young man, miss. A Mr. Wood, he said."

So it was Oliver.

"And he hasn't visited since?"

"No, miss. He was attending on another patient as well, a Mr. Weasley?"

My heart lurched. "Weasley?"

I later learned that Fred died. I couldn't stop crying when I found out. Some of the healers gave me a calming potion, in fear that I would relapse. It stopped the crying, but didn't stop the pain. In my mind, I kept replaying my memories of him, in fear that I would lose them. I realized that Angelina, Alicia, George, and Wood were too afraid to visit me fearing to see the extent of my injuries They wouldn't be able to take that kind of pain. So they stayed away at a decent distance, never visiting me, but constantly getting updates on my condition. But where was Alastair?

Angelina visited me a few days later. Her eyes were puffy and red. I couldn't bear to look at her I supposed it was harder on her. She and Fred were engaged, I later learned. She informed me that there were some fifty-five casualties, but turned her head away immediately signaling that she didn't want to talk about it. I casually asked her about Alastair after a while.

"I...I don't know Katie. Some of the healers tried to get into contact with him. Oliver and Alicia searched for him everywhere, but he's just...gone."

_**A/N: As always, keep reviewing!**_


	14. I Gotta Feeling

_**A/N: This chapter is painfully sad, but explains quite a lot that happened earlier on. We learn the significance of the graduation present, we learn what happened to Alastair. And oh!! Katie and Oliver finally see each other and speak after years!! Can't say it's gonna be a very lovely "let's catch up on old times and love each other forever" kind of moment, but you know...can't do much about that. **_

_**I was thinking a lot about how the characters would look if they were real. The way to writing a good and believable story is if you imagine real people playing the part. You know what their faces look like with a certain reaction and you know what another character's response will automatically be. Anyway, here are my picks for each character:**_

_**Katie: Claire Danes (I saw her in Romeo and Juliet with LeoDiCap and she was PERFECT. Just give her dark brown hair, take away the makeup and she's ready to roll)**_

_**Oliver: Nicholas Hoult (from Skins! 1. That show is amazing (but only the first two series) and 2. He is SO HOT. He's got a very thoughtful, pensieve kind of look that I admire.)**_

_**Angelina: No clue. Suggestions?**_

_**Alicia: See above**_

_**Fred and George are of course perfect as is. **_

_**Alastair: Trent Ford (have you seen his gorgeous cheekbones and delicious eyebrows in How To Deal? Yeah...Katie WOULD have a hard time saying no to him) **_

_**REEEEEEEEAAAAADDDD**_

_**AND BEFORE YOU READ, PLEASE REMEMBER TO REVIEW AFTERWARDS. If I don't get responses, I won't post another chapter (go see my ending author's note). **_

**Chapter Fourteen**

"_Gone? _What do you mean _gone_?" I shrieked. "Where is Alastair?! What's happened?"

Angelina slumped into plush couch near my bed. "I'm sorry Katie. I don't know what to say..."

"No," I whispered, shaking my head frantically. "You can't just come here and tell me that my fiancee is--"

"Dead?" she growled. "Because I wouldn't understand?"

I froze. "That's not what I meant..."

She exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry...I'm just really torn up. I don't know what to do or where to go." Her head shot up to the ceiling as if she couldn't bear to look at me. I could see her eyes watering and the slight quiver of her lip. "I'm just trying to be strong...for him. But it's hard."

I nodded, but I didn't want to listen. I felt bad for what happened to Angie, but I didn't even want to imagine a life like hers for myself. I tried to concentrate on the imaginary circles I was drawing on the slightly yellowed bedsheets.

"Anyways," she continued. "I wouldn't give up hope yet. There's still a chance that he's just gone somewhere unreachable to rescue the victims." She got up from the couch and sat at the corner of my bed, placing her hands on my knees.

"Thanks Angie."

"Sure," she said softly. But Angie was already in her own world. A perfect little fantasy where Fred was alive and they were getting ready to be married. Small details of the life she could have had, flowing across the room into the dirty red dustbin by the door. She turned to face me.

"Listen Katie, we're going to do all we can to find Alastair. Oliver is consulting with every investigation company in the country, both magical and muggle. Just give it a couple of days..."

The burning question came at last. "Why is he doing this?"

Angelina looked at me as if I was the most daft and pitiful person on the planet. "Because he loves you..."

--

_Nothing_. That's all I had for six days. Absolutely _nothing_. There were lingering memories of his warmth and the scent of his cologne tickling my tongue, but those weren't of real substance. No one came to me. When I heard footsteps across the corridor, I would immediately rise hoping it would enter my room, but the steps walked along, never bothering to reach me. It was becoming immediately clear with each passing day that Alastair was not somewhere unreachable. He was dead and they were trying to figure out the best way to tell me. But I was ready to listen. I wouldn't burst into tears or scream, I had already done all of that before. And when Oliver Wood entered my hospital room, with a face so unbelievably solemn, I knew that he was dead. He didn't have to say a word.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said.

I nodded fiercely, trying to smile, but the tears came anyway. I wiped them away, slightly embarassed. "Th-thank yy-you."

He stood there for a moment contemplating what to say next...or how to say it.

"You should know something," he finally said. "He...he wasn't murdered."

My head shot up. "What?"

"The investigators who found the body...they said that his scars were...self-inflicted. They checked his wand at it appears he hit himself with several curses..."

"That...can't be possible..."

_Can't be, can't be, can't be, can't be..._

"The chief investigator spoke with some of his associates at the organization he works for. He was facing severe financial loss. His company was in turmoil...

_He's lying...he has to be..._

"...Towards the end of the war, nobody wanted to put in money. They were afraid that You-Know-Who would find out and hunt them down for helping victims...

_Oh god, oh god..._

"...Printing and distribution is particularly costly these days, so he couldn't advertise the organization. Being part of an unincorporated association, he was personally liable for debt. With no money to back him up and even his closest associates making a fool out of him, he had nothing to live for."

"Just stop!" I screamed. "Just stop lying to me! He didn't kill himself, do you understand? He didn't!"

"Katie--"

"No! He had everything to live for! He had..."I collapsed into a pile of sheets, thick droplets of tears fading into the white. "He had me."

"He was a fool," Oliver whispered fiercely, his eyes intent on making me understand. "And he was never the one for you."

"And I suppose you are? Snog me for a bit and ditch me right after?" I didn't mean to say it, but it came out anyway.

He said nothing.

"And that stupid, stupid graduation present I gave you. You write me the most _fucking _ambiguous letter possible and send it right back?"

He looked up confused. "What?"

I raised my eyebrows. "You heard me. I give you the _best _present anyone can give and--"

"No, I got the present...but send it back?"

"You didn't send it back with that note?"

He shook his head, quite puzzled. "Actually, it's been missing from my room for quite a few years. I thought somebody must have broken into my apartment and stolen it, but it was weird because they didn't take anything else. I even had a solid gold watch lying right next to the drawers where I kept the box, but they didn't bother."

"Then who sent me the note?"

--

It was late January when I found out what happened to the graduation present. By then, I almost forgot about it. I was living in a comfortable space in London with Angelina and George. They were engaged and they seemed genuinely happy. At first, Angelina seemed to take comfort in the fact that George was the closest thing to Fred, but over time, it developed into real love...the one that some only dream about. For a while, I felt uncomfortable living with two people who probably wanted a little privacy but they continually assured me that my presence was welcome. I came up with half the rent, which was a good deal for them. After Fred died, George took a break from the joke shop. His departure from the business was quite dramatic. He left a big sign at the front entrance which read: "Under life renovations". Angelina had a small job at the ministry which barely gave her enough for the other half of the rent. I paid for all the food and the bills. In the end, that was what convinced me to stay. They needed me more than ever.

One night, I was in need of parchment paper to send an owl to one of my colleagues when I noticed one of Angelina's carefully scrawled notes tucked into the drawers. I examined it carefully. '...Me too! I'm so excited for this project..." an excerpt read.

_Where have I seen this before?..._

It seemed unusually familiar, but I figured I had just been exposed to Angie's handwriting for most of my life so obviously it would seem familiar.

I racked my brains that entire day, and when the answer finally came to me, it was something I wished had never come to me.

That night, I confronted Angelina. She came home late at night after work, rubbing the creases on her forehead.

"Hey, listen...George is staying with Lee tonight, so it's just me and you..." Her eyes trailed towards me. "What's wrong?"

"Did you steal Oliver's graduation present?" I sputtered nastily.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did you or did you not steal the graduation present I sent to Oliver years ago and then return it to me with some ridiculous note?"

I realized where the familiarity was in that note. The letter I had recieved in my sixth year read "Me too" in Angelina's exact carefully inscribed scrawl. Reading "me too" on one of Angelina's other letters instantly brought back that memory and I connected the two.

She frowned, her bottom lip quivering. Her head dropped down in shame. "I can't express how...sorry I am. It was an awful thing to do...and I just didn't think--"

"You didn't think!" I shrieked. "My thoughts exactly..."

"I didn't think I was doing anything wrong at that time!" she finished, her voice shaking. "It was only because I--"

"Were jealous?" I interrupted. "You were jealous that Oliver might have loved me, weren't you? Jealous that we had something together." I was saying things I immediately regretted, but I couldn't stop.

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You know it wasn't about jealousy. I loved Fred, remember?"

I snorted. "Yeah, right...that's why you went ahead and shagged his own brother not even a year after he died!"

Tears rolled down her cheeks, but I was furious. I was quite glad that she was crying...she deserved it. She said nothing, but simply opened the front door, leaving me alone in the musty apartment.

_**A/N: Now, things will initially get really sad in the next chapter, but it leads to something great, I swear! Now, before you click "Story Alert" and disappear, DO ME A FAVOR AND REVIEW. Even if you want to say one word ("Good" or "Terrible!"), I sincerely want to know what you think. Don't leave me wondering if I'm wasting my time with this. After all, I take a lot of care and patience to write each chapter. I am slow on the updating because I spend days working on each chapter writing, erasing everything, and rewriting. Don't be afraid to give me criticism, but just GIVE ME SOMETHING. Otherwise, I will have to discontinue this story right this second thinking that no one is reading this so 'why bother'? So if you actually HAVE been reading from the first chapter, you will never know why Angelina did what she did. It doesn't take that long, guys. WRITE SOMETHING!!! **_


	15. A Note To My Readers

Dear Readers,

I am writing this note to you to assure you that I am very much busy at work with the next chapter. It's been taking longer than expected for several reasons:

1. It's been a hectic past few months with traveling and college planning.

2. I wrote the entire chapter and accidentally deleted it all without saving which served as a sign for me that the first draft wasn't good enough.

3. I wrote and rewrote and rewrote but several attempts led me to the conclusion that the characters needed to be further probed.

4. There is in fact a very passionate scene coming up in the next chapter and I'm trying to figure out how to make it work artistically.

I swear that I'm not just blowing you guys off. And I hope I didn't sound rude in my last author update. I hope you don't interpret my confusion as a threat or anything. For a while, I just felt that I was writing to nobody and I thought I had no readers because I wasn't getting many reviews. So I didn't know if there was any point in continuing. I can see that I am completely and utterly wrong, so please don't misunderstand me, dear readers! I very much value the time you take to read this.

But I don't regret asking for reviews because at least, now I am aware of what you are looking for. I appreciate critiques more than anything else and I am always willing to go beyond the limits to make my story worth reading. I want to write something that entertains but also engages people's minds. And I can see from the reviews that you are intrigued, which is a good sign that I should proceed with my work. But please give me something to feed off of, so that I too have the motivation to create something worth your attention. I want to know what you want and I want to know whether or not you like or dislike whatever I have already presented to you so that I have a better idea of what you would like in the future.

That being said, I know you're thinking "What the hell? Why am I getting a paragraph worth of author's notes instead of a chapter?" but really, it's been difficult to put everything together but I suspect I should be able to put it up either later today or tomorrow. SO BE READY FOR THE BEST CHAPTER YET!!! I actually jumped up and down on my seat when I read it through. It's going to be a wild ride, so get excited!!!!

Just so you get a little taste of the upcoming chapter, here are some hints:

-Just when you thought Katie hit an all-time low, she loses everything. She sinks deeper and deeper into psychological pain.

-Oliver is in town, recovering from something you'd never thought he would get into.

-Lovers reunite and stray away due to moral tensions.

-And if you thought all of this was scandal, wait until you find out which Hogwarts student ended up in the prostitution biz.


	16. Say Yes

**_Author's Note: _**

**_So this chapter is a little longer than usual, and I didn't want to overload it with too much stuff. So I'm putting off the lovers reunite business for the next chapter. And the moments of passion will also be in the next chapter. This one is more about the scandal factor…something this story desperately needs. That said, thank you so much for the reviews and for your patience. I plan on finishing this story sometime by the end of this year. And in my current frame of my mind, there will be a happy ending. But I don't know how that will change later on. _**

**_This chapter is one of the more serious things I've written, with emphasis on description rather than dialogue. I hope you enjoy it, because I know I did!_**

**_PLEASE REVIEW!!_**

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Last night, I dreamt a dream. I dreamt of a water nymph floating lifelessly in a lush pond. The world was alive but she was not. I dreamt of a girl in a white dress moving soundlessly beside the mass of golden trees. Her eyes gleamed like diamonds but soon surfaced into ruby red. I dreamt of fingers twisting together until they became a tight knot. And I awoke with a sick lurch from the pit of my stomach. _

_Time to pack_. It wasn't a particularly difficult assignment considering I hadn't brought much anyway. But emotionally, I was suffocating. No one asked any questions or tried to stop me. But I wished they had. I wished Angelina would emerge from the front door and tell me how sorry she was and I too would admit what a fool I had been. We would embrace and it would all be over...just like a dream. But I knew it would never be all right. This was just the beginning.

* * *

It was nearly dawn. I could see a couple of early birds jogging on the street and the sound of a hairdryer buzzing from the next house. Outside, the air was muggy-a combination of the thick smoke flooding from the taxi and the general fogginess of the morning. My eyes focused on the inky black car at the foot of the apartment waiting my arrival. I grabbed my suitcase and purse and turned to leave. George was waiting for me by the stairs.

"Katie," he said, pained and confused. "At least tell me what's going on..." I ignored him and made my way down the stairs. I could see Angelina sitting on the small granite island we had built three months ago. She was drinking a cup of coffee, her eyes bloodshot and cold. She didn't look at me. My teeth clenched and fingers twitching, I pulled out a pair of cool silver keys and placed it before her on the counter. I darted out of the house as quickly as my legs could carry me, nearly tripping on myself. I coughed violently as smoke made its way into my nose and mouth. Tears silently rolled down my cheeks and I forcefully wiped them away. I slipped on my dark sunglasses and tried to retain some composure as the driver stuffed my suitcase into the trunk. After one last look at the house, I slid into the car and pulled out a cigarette from my purse. I lighted it and pulled down the window so that the smoke formed billowy shapes into that chapter of my life.

* * *

For a year, I moved around a lot-everywhere from Dublin to Stuttgart. I gave up my job at the hospital and took up some waitressing gigs around town. That was all I deserved, really. I engaged myself in exotic adventures with mysterious men that I had met in bars and nightclubs. They would convince me that I was the sexiest woman that they had ever met and would take me to some cheesy hotel late at night and proceed to have desperate, wordless sex with me. The next morning, they would be awakened to the sound of a cellphone buzzing in the front pocket of their khakis. It was the wife and she would like him to return home from the business conference and to pick up a box of eggs on the way and make himself useful, thank you very much. And if by chance the cellphone didn't ring, I would wake up to the sound of the man jacking off to a magazine with shirtless men. He wasn't gay, of course. That was always his explanation. He wanted to prove to the world that he was straighter than a picket fence. There was a common string between these men. It might have been their impeccable taste in tailored suits or their suave accents (I've always had a fondness for accents). But mostly, it seemed that they never seemed to stay for longer than a night in bed. They never dared to look me in the eye because the truth was that I had a gift. To them, I held their darkest and most well-kept secrets. I was an unspoken confidant who took in their pains and kept it within myself. I freed them from eternal humiliation and the dangerous whims of society when it turns on you. And in return, they gave me a night's worth of importance...it was all I deserved, after all. I never heard from them again. And once I was through with the socialites and the unsatisfied elite, I scoured the brothels. Usually, I took a man, but not always. And it was on this expedition that I arrived in Berlin.

Berlin is not the city for the homely characters who just wanted to settle down and raise a couple of chickens. It is, in fact, the venue for social change and a rapidly growing market. It encompasses all that is unique to German culture with influences from foreign lands. But above all, it is the hub for high living and nightlife. I developed a drinking habit and a smoking habit. And I encouraged myself to go beyond the limits. It was in this city that I met a man whom I had not encountered nor expected to meet in years.

He was a tall gentleman with piercing silver eyes and golden hair. His features were particularly prominent giving him an air of royalty. His nose was sharp and pointed and his lips seemed fixed into a permanent smirk. He wore rich and intricate suits and green silk ties. He carried a cane made of the finest koa wood, a silver snake's head positioned at the handle. He was vaguely familiar, but I didn't want to overthink it. Not at such desperate times.

"I'd be glad to do the job," was the first thing he said to the man at the desk. He turned slightly to face me and for the first time in my life, I felt unnerved by a single expression. The corners of his lips twisted uncomfortably into a sick smile. "Can I buy you a drink?"

After a long pause, I managed to mumble, "No. Let's just do this."

"Certainly..." He switched the cane to the other hand and placed his free hand across my waist. His lips grazed across my cheeks and the collarbone and settled right below the neck. "Let me take you to our room."

* * *

I don't know when it clicked in my mind that I was fucking Draco Malfoy. I suppose I had a suspicion from the very beginning, but I still let him continue because it took away some of the pain. I was more surprised by the fact that he was selling himself than that I was having sex with the Slytherin boy whom I had loathed for years.

"Malfoy?" I muttered in the dark when we were done. "What are you doing here?"

"In Berlin?"

"Yeah."

"Well you see," he began, sitting up slightly from what I could make out from the shadows. "I have an agenda. I plan on restoring my family's honor..."

"By whoring yourself?"

"But you see, nobody in the wizarding world knows that. I have nearly disappeared from their history textbooks. All I am and will ever be known as is the son of a death eater. We were given reprieve, you may recall, but that hasn't stopped the mocking or the brutality."

"But what about your brutality?" I asked sharply. The evening had nearly faded away and I was desperate for another shag, but matters needed to be settled first. "Your father killed--"

"My father did wrong and he is paying for his punishment," Malfoy hissed. "But what has my mother done? Does she deserve this treatment? Our family fortune is gone. They have taken it away."

"Then get a job!"

"This is my job! Do you think I want to be in this position of helping middle-aged muggles achieve sexual gratification? I want a fucking life! Is that so much to ask?" He collapsed into a fit of dry sobs. "Goddamit, I want a life."

I was nearly in tears from witnessing the desperation of this old classmate. I didn't want him to be in pain, no matter what had happened before. Despite failed murderous cursing attempts and enmity in the Quidditch field, I felt for him. But all I could offer was my advice.

"Then kill yourself."

"What?" he asked, his face contorted with shock.

"Kill yourself. Your life is not worth living. Or drink...and be merry. Either way, your situation's fucked."

He grimaced. "Maybe you're situation is fucked. But mine is still in progress. This is not the end of me."

I rolled my eyes. "What do you know of my situation, Malfoy?"

His expression instantly softened to one of concern. "You're in pain."

I never expected someone to point of the truth in such few words and in such a manner. Especially, Draco Malfoy. I paid up my fee at the desk after a couple of hours. Malfoy was seated in a plush couch by the fireplace, smiling as if remembering an old secret. When I turned to leave, he called out me.

"Katie!" His fingers drummed rhythmically against his lap. "Don't ever forget who you were once. Just because the show is over, doesn't mean the rehearsals never made you who you are today." He smiled broadly, as I left into the cold night air.

* * *

Within two months in Berlin, I discovered that Oliver Wood was admitted into rehab in the city. He was in Heidelberg for a match and was caught with drugs in the locker rooms.

"But vyyyy did he do it?" I heard one plump witch mutter to the bartender at one of my favorite wizarding pubs. She looked positively ecstatic to be discussing such gossip.

"No one knows. Maybe he thought it would improve his performance?" the bartender replied, shrugging.

"Ahhhh," the woman began, her eyebrows wagging excitedly. "Maybe it is rrrrrrromance. The girl must have left him."

My eyes darted to the witch, who was now downing large gulps of whiskey. The chair looked like it was about to give away from her weight.

"Anyvvvvay, per'aps he veel make babies with me, yah?" She collapsed into a fit of girlish giggles embedded with earth-shattering shrieks. I grabbed a copy of the latest paper, and sure enough, Oliver's grimacing and regretful face was plastered across the front page. But beyond that, I could see a look of desperation and pain. He hadn't done this for better performance on the quidditch field or for attention. He did it because he was alone and he was scared that he would be alone forever. And it was in that moment, that I decided to find him.

_**A/N: As always, please review!**_


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